America 1929: John F. Kennedy, the Great Writer

"That's one way to understand it," Samuel nodded slightly.

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine, realizing that he had almost become a pawn, or even a sacrifice, in the internal power struggle within the Tammony Association.

"So, does that mean the more traditional, street-based faction within the Tammany Association, represented by Scapon, is using this incident to pressure the dockworkers and Walker?"

Samuel agreed with Arthur's statement and continued:

"New York's gang ecosystem is very complex, with Italians and Irish, each with their own territory and interests. But in higher-level political games, they are sometimes used as pawns."

"Scapon's strong reaction was actually an expression of dissatisfaction from the traditional forces within the Tammany Association, demonstrating that they are not to be ignored and that they have the ability to cause trouble if the reformers harm their interests."

Samuel glanced at Arthur, his tone softening slightly.

"I'm telling you this not to drag you into these dirty struggles. On the contrary, it's to make you understand what you're facing."

"Your pen and your voice, in this intricate network, may affect far more than just the face of a few bureaucrats."

"Walker wants to shut you up, Hearst wants to control or destroy you, and now, even the forces lurking in the shadows may, for various reasons, either use you or see you as a threat."

Hearing this, Arthur's doubts deepened, and he couldn't help but ask, "Who exactly are you, and why are you reminding me?"

Samuel smiled:

"My apologies. Let me formally introduce myself. I am Samuel Sibri, a former judge of the New York State Court of Appeals, and now a lawyer."

The so-called New York State Court of Appeals is actually the Supreme Court of New York State.

"A lawyer? Then why are you getting involved in the Tammony Association's affairs?" Arthur couldn't help but ask.

Instead of answering directly, Samuel countered with, "What do you think could be more poisonous to this city in the long run than a corrupt mayor, a profit-driven newspaper tycoon, or even a local gang?"

Arthur pondered for a moment, then, drawing on his own experiences, slowly replied:

"It is the system that allows this corruption, profiteering, and violence to fester, multiply, and disguise itself as the norm."

"It's the kind of political spoils where city hall, court, and parliamentary seats are either openly priced or traded privately."

"It is the tacit acceptance and even institutionalization of collusion between power and interests, and the powerlessness and numbness that ordinary people feel when faced with injustice."

A genuine hint of approval, even a touch of surprise, flashed across Samuel's eyes.

"You've got a good eye, young man." He paused for a moment, as if making a decision.

"I have connections in the legal profession and I've met some people who are deeply concerned about the current situation in New York. We're not concerned about a particular case of corruption, a particular gang deal, or the corruption of a particular newspaper."

"What we are concerned about is the soil that nourishes all of this, the systemic corruption that treats public power as a private domain, political positions as chips for spoils, and laws and procedures as tools to be manipulated."

"The Tammany Society is one of the largest and most deeply rooted manifestations of this tradition."

He looked directly at Arthur, his gaze honest and serious.

"Tackling such a behemoth is no easy task, nor can it be accomplished overnight. It requires evidence, strategy, timing, and, most importantly, letting the public see its true colors."

"This may be a long process, and it may even be fraught with risks."

He didn't specify who "we" were or what kind of people they were, but the meaning couldn't be clearer.

Samuel Sibyl, the former judge and current lawyer, is by no means a lone wolf.

Behind him is a loose, unified network whose ambition is to shake the foundations of political corruption in New York and beyond.

"We've been following you for a long time, both in your writing and in Elizabeth's comments about you. You should be considered one of our fellow travelers."

"Moreover, your calmness today and your insights just now make me feel that you may understand the significance of this struggle, and not just be content to be a popular satirical writer."

Samuel then added:

"Of course, it's entirely up to you. You can continue to fight on your ground with your pen."

He took out another business card of even better quality from his inner pocket and pushed it in front of Arthur.

This time, it has the printed name "Samuel J. Sibbury," along with the name, address, and phone number of a law firm.

"But if you encounter more specific problems in the future that are more difficult to deal with in the conventional way, or if you discover some clues that you think are worth investigating further, you can make this call."

Arthur picked up the business card and felt it was much heavier than the previous card that only had a phone number.

This is not just a means of communication, but more like a potential gateway to a deeper struggle.

"I understand, Mr. Sibbury." Arthur carefully put the business card away.

Thank you for your honesty and guidance.

Samuel Sibyl stood up, put his coat back on, and picked up his cane.

"It was a pleasant meeting today, Mr. Kennedy. Remember, seeing the chessboard clearly is more important than rushing to make a move. Keep your mind clear, and keep your sense of humor. Sometimes, those are the sharpest weapons."

He nodded slightly, turned and left the coffee shop, his steps still steady and composed.

Arthur sat alone in his seat, lost in thought.

He felt a wave of fear wash over him.

This field, where politicians, political machines, and criminal families intertwine, is a naked power struggle and violence.

Entering that field too early and unwisely could not only ruin his budding writing career, but could also cost him everything.

His immediate priority is to consolidate his position in The New York Herald, write more good articles, win more readers, and win this battle of public opinion. This is the battle he should be fighting right now.

And now his thoughts drifted uncontrollably to another matter Samuel had mentioned:

The dockworkers who are currently heading to or about to head to the New York Daily News building, as well as the agitator Frank Scapon, the Gambino family behind him, and the Irish gang of the Tammany Association.

Whatever Scapon's motives, and whatever the infighting within the Tammany Association, the dockworkers are innocent. They should not be scapegoats.

He can no longer sit here contemplating macro-politics and the potential dangers of the future.

He had to find Patrick O'Reilly immediately, or try to get a message out to the dockworkers' union.

Arthur pushed open the café door and turned without hesitation toward the Brooklyn piers, his steps hurried, with only one thought in his mind:

Hopefully, it's not too late.